The Travelnae branch office of the Watari-byou was wrapped in the silence of early afternoon. Sunlight streaming through the window faintly illuminated the documents on the desk. Kairant sat in his chair, gazing intently at his staff within that light. A short staff—about the length of his arm. The surface of black wood bore the marks of twenty years. Scars from battles, worn spots from training, traces of sun-bleaching from the passage of time. "Twenty years, huh." The murmur came from his old friend, Galt Hezen. Seated in the branch director's chair, he tilted his cup while his silver-streaked hair swayed slightly. Amber-colored liquor glimmered in the light. He too had aged. At fifty-two, his body retained the shadow of his days as a gold-ranked adventurer, though the long hours at his desk had added a slight softness to his frame. But his eyes remained unchanged. Sharp, perceptive, holding a light that seemed to see through everything. "It's about time." Kairant's words were quiet. Devoid of emotional fluctuation. Which only emphasized their gravity. "My knees ache when morning comes. On a recent request, I was outpaced by a bronze-ranked youngster." Galt said nothing, continuing to drink. Listening in silence. That was the unspoken understanding cultivated between them over years of companionship. "Even the master's staff won't last forever." Kairant raised the staff. In that moment, the sunlight from the window caught its tip, causing the entire staff to emit a faint glow. Twenty years. A companion he'd touched nearly every day. More than a weapon—it had become part of his body. "I brought my retirement notice." Kairant reached into his breast pocket. He began to pull out thick paper—when Galt quietly raised his hand. "Wait. Drink first." Galt pressed a cup filled with amber liquid into Kairant's hands. Kairant stopped moving. The retirement notice he'd begun to withdraw hung suspended in his pocket. "This is the same liquor I drank twenty years ago." Galt said. His gaze held both nostalgia and the premonition of parting. Kairant accepted the cup. He inhaled its aroma. Sweetness and sharpness grazed his nostrils. Through the exchange of that cup, the two men spoke of far more than words could convey. Two hours passed. As he was leaving, Kairant spoke again. "I'll bring it tomorrow." The words Galt threw at his back were quiet. "That's the third time you've said that this year." Kairant didn't stop. He simply moved forward. As he left the branch, Galt was already tilting his cup again. His profile, despite the daylight, carried something of the darkness of night. --- Leaving the town, heading northeast. The path from the Watari-byou branch to the forest was one he knew well. The scenery on the return journey never changed. Old wooden-fenced houses, market stall banners, and gradually increasing trees. When Kairant reached the outer edge of Leska Forest, his feet stopped. The wind was different. Twenty years of instinct told him so. The experience of countless requests as an adventurer—etched into his skin, his nerves, the depths of his soul—sensed "something." A fluctuation in magical essence. Holy-attribute light burst upward beyond the trees. Short and sharp. The next instant, a roar that shook the ground. The cry of a wheeled insect. Without hesitation, Kairant pushed through the undergrowth. He ran. His feet kicked off the earth. Twenty years of muscle responded to that command. The pain in his knees was pushed into the realm of unconsciousness in this moment. What burst into his vision was a girl in practice robes. Her back pressed against a tree, both hands thrust forward. From those hands overflowed holy energy—pale white light forming a shield-like shape. A novice saint. A trainee of the Holy Light Institute. That shield was being struck again and again by the wheeled insect. A magical beast with a soil-colored carapace. Nearly two meters in length. Multiple legs trampled the ground, its wide-open jaws trying to shatter the shield. Crunch, crunch—the holy shield crumbled bit by bit. The girl's face had gone pale. Her expression twisted in agony. She wouldn't last much longer. In mere seconds, the shield would collapse and the beast's fangs would pierce her body. Kairant reflexively raised his staff. "Get away!" That single word was, strictly speaking, not a warning to the girl but a rallying cry to himself. He pointed the staff's tip at the wheeled insect. He concentrated the magical essence within his body. His natural affinity wasn't actually clearly defined. Through years of training, he'd developed the technique to flexibly manipulate multiple attributes, but his specialty was darkness. Always had been. His master had recognized that talent and given him this staff. "Darkness—" He called. He activated his magical essence. From within his body, into the staff. In that instant, Something was different. The power overflowing from the staff's tip bore a color unlike any before. Black-purple light. The color of deep, profound darkness. It wasn't something he'd consciously drawn forth. The moment he called, the staff responded on its own—or as if someone else were controlling it. That black-purple blade pierced straight through the wheeled insect's flank. The magical beast cried out. A cry of pain. In the same instant, its body lifted from the ground. It was blown away, disappearing into the forest depths. Silence. Kairant looked at his own palm. His right hand. Gripping the staff. That right hand trembled faintly. "Ah..." The girl made a sound. Her eyes wide open. An expression mixing terror and shock. She wasn't looking at Kairant, but at the staff. In her small pupils was reflected the afterimage of that black-purple blade. She lost consciousness. The girl's body went limp. Kairant instantly ran forward and caught her small frame. She was unconscious. But her breathing continued. Her pulse was normal. She was safe. The Holy Light Institute's crest was sewn into the chest of her practice robes. A novice saint. A girl in her teens. Why she'd been cornered by a magical beast in such a place—he wouldn't ask that now. Kairant cradled the girl and headed for the Holy Light Institute's Travelnae branch. --- The branch stood on a small hill at the southern edge of the old town. A simple white-walled chapel and, beside it, a training building. The head priestess Melva Cres came to meet him. "Celia?" Melva's voice held both surprise and anger. A woman in her sixties with white-streaked hair bound severely. Her expression bore the deep sense of responsibility and the marks of years of training. Kairant carefully entrusted the girl to Melva. Celia. That was the girl's name, it seemed. "She was cornered by a magical beast at the outer edge of Leska Forest. A wheeled insect. It's already withdrawn." Melva gazed at the girl. Then her eyes moved to Kairant. That gaze held gratitude and, simultaneously, many questions. But Kairant offered nothing more. "Her condition?" "She's merely unconscious. Her breathing and pulse are normal. We'll perform a healing ritual now." Kairant nodded. "I leave it to you." The return journey was dark. Evening had come. The town's lights began to flicker on one by one. Kairant returned home. A two-story wooden house, weathered with age. A place he'd lived in for decades. He sat by the window. He lit the lamp. Pale light enveloped the entire room. Kairant held the master's heirloom staff in both hands. He gazed at its tip. Within the wood grain of the staff, he could see a fluctuation—no, a tremor. The darkness's magical essence still pulsed faintly. As if alive. As if breathing. As if with a heartbeat. For twenty years, he'd used this staff. Nearly every day. Rain or shine, snow or clear skies, tired or wounded. They'd overcome everything together. Yet never once. Had he felt the power of darkness. The staff had always been quiet. Obedient to his will, activating only the techniques he commanded. A faithful tool. And yet now, "What is this?" Kairant murmured. The retirement notice slid from the edge of the desk and fell to the floor. That sound alone echoed in the silence. Kairant didn't pick it up. He simply gripped the staff, his thoughts drifting into the darkness of the night beyond the window. What had happened? Why now? And the most crucial question—what was this? The staff that hadn't changed in twenty years. Beside that girl. Near that holy attribute. Had suddenly released the power of darkness. A faint unease took root in Kairant's chest. Simultaneously, something that had slumbered in the depths of his heart was beginning to awaken. Something new. The night deepened. Moonlight streaming through the window coldly illuminated the staff's tip.